


Orison

by hungrydean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drunk Castiel, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Your Typical Dramatic Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungrydean/pseuds/hungrydean
Summary: Dean is in love, Cas is drunk. It’s not a good combination.





	Orison

Dean wants to wake up with Cas pressing his face into his chest, muffling a grumpy protest at the early morning—hair in wild locks on his naked skin so close that Dean could press his lips into them. He wants to pull Cas close and trace patterns on his back, or gently nudge his side until he’d start squirming and chuckling, still half asleep as he’d roll off Dean’s chest, only to snuggle closer a moment later.

They’d let the early morning air pass through the open window and Dean would go to put on some old songs, just to sprawl himself back on the bed and talk with Cas interrupted with slow kisses and touches until one of them forces the other to go make coffee.

Instead, he wakes up alone, his bed too big and empty. No window to open, no music to play, no Cas to kiss.

He groans, one arm over his eyes, stretching as he tries to remember what day it is and what shit they’d gotten themselves into now. He doesn’t want to think about Cas as he gets up and dresses, but he does. He always does.

He does when he stands in the bathroom brushing his teeth and his eyes fall om Cas’ toothbrush. He does when he’s making food and he hopes Cas will like it. He does when they’re together, he does when they’re not. It’s not as if he wants to—he tries to distract himself in any way he can, but it’s difficult not to think about something if you try really hard to not do it. He tried to drown the worst, dirtiest thoughts with porn but he’d end up groaning out Cas’ name, the busty girls on screen forgotten, and later he’d wash off the guilt and embarrassment in the shower, knowing those images of Cas were there to stay.

It’s hard to focus when they’re together and Dean just wants to hold his hand or touch his cheek or kiss his frown. It’s hard because Cas’ stare is so intense it makes Dean blush and he jokes about it, but it’s just for show- it’s all just for show. His tough façade is soon to fall, he knows, it can’t last forever. It’s already crumbling at the edges.

And then one day Cas comes stumbling in the bunker out of nowhere, and Sam has already gone to bed so it’s Dean’s task to catch Cas’ heavy body in his arms. Cas has been drinking- and knowing Cas, it must’ve been a lot before he got this affected. He’s slurring and his eyes are foggy. He probably also doesn’t realize that he’s clinging onto Dean. 

So Dean drags him up to his room as Cas complains about the destruction of the earth and how horrible his body feels and Dean gets him onto his bed with a few encouraging words. 

“He’s so stupid.” Cas breathes as Dean works him out of his coat and loosens his tie. “So _damn_ stupid.” 

“Who is?” Dean asks, focused on getting Cas’ shoes off. 

Cas kicks off the other with some struggle, then sinks into his sheets and closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead. 

“I’m in love with a dumbass, Dean. He sucks. I love him.” 

“Oh.” Dean swallows, staring at the man on the bed and he feels all warmth drain from him. He tries to think of something he should say, anything, but his throat is dry and his mind a terrifying darkness. “Okay.” 

He steps away, knowing he needs to get out here soon. When he’s at the door, Cas speaks again. 

“I’m in love with an asshole, can you believe it, Dean?” 

Dean doesn’t reply. Back in his room, he strips down to his underwear and crawls into his bed. It feels like he’s drunk himself but in the worst kind of way. The all-I-can-do-is-be-miserable-and-cry kind of drunk. Tears wet his pillow and he has to bite his hand to quiet his sobbing. His shoulders shake uncontrollably. He cries like a child, but his mother isn’t there to calm him down. 

For hours he lies awake, staring at the ceiling with tears drying on his cheeks. When the clock has passed 4 a.m., he knows there’s only one way to get over this. He feels nervous, scared, embarrassed, like a sinner going to a priest. 

_Forgive me Cas, for I have sinned._

He stumbles out of bed, feet cold on the floor. He doesn’t bother to put on socks. 

_It’s been... forever since my last confession._

The hall is dark, but Dean knows where to go. 

_I fell in love with an angel. I fucked up._

Dean almost bumps into Cas. He’d been making the trip through the hall in the opposite direction and is now standing right in front of Dean in the dark. 

“Oh.” He says, and by the way he’s holding himself, Dean can tell he’s not drunk anymore- at least not as much. He doesn’t know if angels have hangovers.

“I-” Dean begins. “What are you doing here?” 

“Apologizing.” 

Dean tries to make out Cas’ features. His shirt his open, exposing his chest. Dean is glad that it’s dark. 

“For what?” 

They seem to form one shadow in the darkness, standing so close Dean can feel Cas’ body heat. 

“I shouldn’t have called you a dumbass.” 

“You-” 

“Or an asshole.” 

Dean needs a moment. His heart speeds up before he fully understands what’s going on. This time, Dean really doesn’t know what to say. 

“What were you doing here?” Cas asks when Dean doesn’t reply. 

“Confessing.” Dean manages before he finds Cas’ hand in the dark. Cas doesn’t have night vision, because his kiss lands at the side of Dean’s mouth. They laugh and find each other’s face with their hands, try again and succeed. 

Dean pulls Cas along back to his room and into his bed, not letting go.

He wakes up with Cas pressing his face into his chest, muffling a grumpy protest at the early morning—his hair in wild locks on his naked skin so close that Dean could press his lips into them.

He does.


End file.
